" SETTLING into the seat of his ’81 banged-up black 320i, Jade rolled the radio tuning knob through a cacophony of static. Giving up, he reached into his glove compartment, pulled out a CD, and slipped it in. Miles Davis, Kind of Blue. The green lights floated overhead, one after another, as Jade swerved from lane to lane, darting between cars. He drove along the streets with his left arm extended out the broken window, his hand tapping the car roof furiously to the tune: “Du nu nu nu nu nu nu na. So what. Du nu nu nu nu nu nu na. So what. "

― Gregg Andrew Hurwitz , The Tower